Made Of Glass
by AlinaLotus
Summary: Life is hard. Lies are easier.


**The usual warnings: language, slight sexual content. Sakura's age is kind of murky...she's no longer a minor, we'll say.**

_I don't know anything at all and I'm somebody else  
It could take years to find you, it could take years to find myself_

_And I don't need to hear your answer I just need you to see  
That I think it's time to break down these walls that we throw up_

_Am I still breathing, have I lost that feeling  
Am I made of glass 'cause you see right through me  
I don't know who I am and you're the only one who sees that_

_I just need you to feel  
Like there are no boundaries at all_

_And how far have we come, too far to throw away the past  
Will you be there waiting for me  
So I'll be here waiting for you_

Sakura lives lies. Eats them, digests them, nourishes herself off them. Life is better when lived in denial, particularly _her_ life.

Years ago (it could be decades or lifetimes, though, as detached and far away as they feel) she would cringe at the idea of so much dishonesty, but killing people is like killing yourself, she thinks, and _that _Sakura- the one who was kind and clever, if only slightly brash- died along with hundreds of others.

Kakashi lives- well, he doesn't. He doesn't live anymore. He _is _things. He is tall, he is strong, he is is is. Kakashi is lies. It's probably why she cared so much about him- they were the same.

Lies were so natural for him. The truth was harder. It was like life, she knows. Life is hard, lies are easier. When he was lying like "I don't love you" or "I'm not good enough for you" it rolled off his tongue, forceful and ringing with sincerity. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing.

The truth, though, _that_ was like most people telling a lie. He scratched his head, shrugged his shoulders, made other gestures of discomfort before finally telling the truth like "I think that love is pointless, but for some fucked up reason you matter to me" or "you're beautiful" or whatever other trite nonsense he tried to keep locked up in his mind.

Sakura often wondered if she still had a soul, and if she did, just how torn and mutilated it was. She waits for Karma to come knocking at her door, but it never does. Or maybe this is her retribution, desperately loving a man she has no possible hope of ever reaching. Kakashi cares for her on some level, that's obvious in the way he averts his eye when he tells her so, from the way his leg shakes nervously when they are together in public, or even when they're alone. But he will never love her, of that she is certain, because he simply _isn't_ love.

It used to be exciting how he was so many things, but now it's confusing and Sakura doesn't know if she can keep up anymore. She is so tired, her body exhausted, ready to shatter. That's the crux of the matter. The lies she's spun have made her weak and fragile and the very thing a shinobi should never be: breakable.

She pictures herself like a thin sheet of ice across a lake, kids skating on top of her, running and sliding, old men in thick flannel coats and yarn hats fishing through her, the pungent smoke from their pipes permeating the air. The kids fly across her, crack crack crack. The men saw into her, crack crack crack. Each movement is exaggerated a hundredfold because of how vulnerable she is.

The end result is fatal for anybody near her.

**oooo**

She'd never ask him for help, never let him see that she even needed any. But she can't control it these days, and she's always found that particular exertion- control, that is- impossible in Kakashi's presence anyway.

"What is real?" She asks, pressing her fingers to the frosty glass window beside her. It is the middle of the night, the early hours of the Autumn day freezing. They're in his bed, completely naked except for the thick blanket wrapped around their bodies.

"Whatever you want it to be, I guess." He replies, covering her hand with his, their fingers following the same pattern on the pane.

"I think you're real." She says, like she's decided something. "But not me."

He chuckles, low, and her heart kicks at the sound. "Then what are you?"

She sighs, pulling his hand to her face. "A ghost. Undead, almost. On the surface of life. Waiting."

"Waiting for what?"

She shrugs, leans back down to the bed with him, her head on his shoulder. "You." She says simply.

"Sakura, I- "

"I will always wait." She says over him, because she's resigned herself to that fact. She's sick of living lies, of pretending to be somebody else just because it's easier to breath without the shards of guilt and sorrow filling your lungs and shredding your heart with every in, every out.

She can take the pain, it's never been something foreign to her, but she can't take the effort of faking any more. So she'll come clean, she'll start the process of clearing out her closet. And just like everything in her life, it all begins with this man.

"You hate to hear it. I think it's because you're afraid to, but I love you. You're- well, you're _everything. _So do it, Kakashi. Do what you have to do, say what you have to say, I'll still be here."

She wants to add something else, something more, but it's all been said before. He knows her feelings. She just hopes he can separate the truth from the lies.

**oooo**

"I want you to call me sensei again. Like you used to." He says, picking up a piece of barbecued pork with his chopsticks.

"Why, exactly?" Sakura asks, taking a long sip of her jasmine tea. The restaurant is dimly lit and a bit empty, but she prefers it that way.

"I need a reason?" He asks, his eyebrow raised as if incredulous. It's feigned, of course, but it doesn't matter to her.

"I'd like one." She states, popping a dumpling in her mouth. "And if it has anything to do with sex, you can just forget it right now." He won't, and she's not being entirely truthful anyway. She can't help herself from moaning "_yes, sensei, please sensei!_" when they're having sex any more than he can keep from being elusive and enigmatic.

"The other night," He begins after a moment, swirling the remaining food in his bowl, "when you asked me 'what is real?' and you said that you thought _I_ was real, but you weren't...why did you say that?"

Sakura runs her fingers through her hair, still short after all these years. "In my life," she starts, "I have done things I never would have believed possible. I've killed, hurt, healed, saved, ruined lives and stolen things. Lusted, lied, tortured. Let my ideals die with the person who believed in them. I've become somebody I don't know, somebody who doesn't exist. But," She dips her finger in the lukewarm tea, then traces the rim of the cup, "with you...around you...I feel like I rebuild that old self slowly, and someday, maybe, I'll be _that_ Sakura again."

Kakashi lets out a slow breath. "You're too smart for your own good, Sakura, and too human to do what shinobi should, and that is turn a blind eye to the "bad" things we do. Stealing, killing, hurting. The ends justify the means, that is the way of the ninja. But you were never a good one, were you?"

He is always straight forward about her weaknesses, but it's not like she doesn't agree. From the very beginning she was the worst of her team, probably the weakest genin in her entire class.

"But," he concedes, reaching across the table, brushing his fingers across the back of her hand, "you are _you_. You have never ceased to be Haruno Sakura- you are the same from the first day I met you, to fucking you in my bed, to right this second. You are real. The lies you've told and lived were a mask." He tugs with his free hand on the blue fabric covering his face. "But you have always been there."

So it's happened, she thinks, he's finally lost his fucking mind, dropped off the edge of sanity. Although, she reasons, it wasn't like he had far to go anyway. Heh. As if she should talk.

He chuckles. "You're so stubborn, even when I tell you what you want to hear you don't believe me."

"Forgive me for being cautious, _sensei,_ you're not one who tells the truth freely."

He raises his hand to his chin, thoughtful. "What will it take, then? To make you believe me."

Sakura raises her eyes to his, holding his gaze for a long second. "Marry me."

He is still, like stone, impassive and she can't tell what he's thinking. Not that she ever could anyway.

After what seems like an eternity, she can see the corners of his mouth pull up beneath his mask. "And that would make you what, Sakura?"

"Aside from Mrs. Hatake, it would make me real. _Us_ real. It would make you love."

"But I do love you." He doesn't get it, because he doesn't know. He doesn't do things. He is things. So if he loves, he has to encompass it. Maybe she'll get the chance to show him that.

"Then prove it."

"With marriage."

"Cake, flowers, the whole shebang."

Kakashi takes a deep breath, and Sakura almost laughs out loud. He won't agree to it, it's madness! Hatake Kakashi, engaged? Married? How absurd. He was uncomfortable at the thought of being in a sexual courtship, let alone a full-on committed relationship that lasted a lifetime.

But she had to ask him to prove it. She just wanted him to know that in the process of trying to become honest again, she needed to tear down the proverbial walls she kept between her and other humans. And the most vital wall to tear down was the one between them.

"You've forgotten something," He nearly whispers, and from his pocket pulls a dark blue velvet box.

Sakura's heart races. "What is that?" She says, raising a shaky finger to point.

"If we're going to have cake and flowers, I think we'll need this." He opens the box, revealing a thin silver band set with a smooth green stone, the exact color of her eyes.

"You've gone 'round the twist," Sakura says, but she lifts a hand to the ring anyway. It's beautiful, perfectly simple and perfectly her.

"I suppose that's what they'll all say," Kakashi says, still smiling. "How about it? Will you be my wife, Sakura?" And his leg is shaking, his hand scratching the back of his head. So she knows he's really asking her, that he honestly wants this.

"If you're proposing- "

"Which I am...honestly Sakura, you used to be quicker than this."

"Then it should be done properly."

Kakashi rolls his eye, but he had a feeling it would come to this. "Fine." He says, picking up the ring and sliding out of the booth. Sakura is on the edge of hers, facing him. "Sakura, will you do me the honor of spending your life with me?" He shrugs, and Sakura smiles.

"Took you long enough." She says with a smirk as he puts the ring on her finger.

"Some things are worth waiting for." He counters, leaning forward to kiss her.

The end of the road is in the distance, she thinks, as Kakashi calls for a celebratory bottle of sake and proudly presents Sakura to the waitress as the future Hatake Sakura. If she can be loved, if Kakashi can want her, then maybe things weren't so bad after all, maybe trying to change the past wasn't the answer.

She'll live for today, for now. After all, was there any better thing than having _him_, the man she'd been in love with since she was twelve years old, ask you to spend your lives together? Sakura doesn't think so.

For once...finally...she is grateful, she is happy. She is real.

**Song used is Made Of Glass by Trapt. Thanks for reading! As always, feedback is loved. **


End file.
